Death: Genesis

Jariq was a strange place, and it was wholly different from Talia’s home city in a number of ways. Some, like its location in the center of an unforgiving desert, were obvious. The sandstone construction as well as the city’s formidable walls were enough to make that clear. In addition, the city was dirtier – both in terms of the city itself as well as its denizens – than Beacon. In fact, it reminded her of Beacon’s outskirts, the base level where people were mired in squalor and lived in tents. She’d only visited a handful of times, usually at the behest of the Church of Purity, but the place had left a lasting impression. Jariq reminded her of that, not least because of its lawless nature.

Of course, Talia had little to worry about. If anyone was misguided enough to attack her, she would show them just how terrible of a mistake they had made. And if she somehow failed, Zeke was right there beside her. He hadn’t regained his full strength yet, but he was close enough to deal with anything Jariq could throw at them.

The two walked in silence, with Zeke looking around like a tourist. By contrast, Talia watched every shadow, every nook and cranny, searching for any hints of danger. Zeke could take care of himself, but she had taken it upon herself to make sure he didn’t have to. She owed him that much, at least.

“What do you think of Jariq?” Zeke asked, suddenly breaking the silence. Around them, people scattered out of their way. Even if the citizens didn’t know about Zeke destroying half the city – and they did – they wouldn’t have dared stand in the way of someone with his level. Not every high level would react to such an affront with violence, and certainly, Zeke would never even think about doing so, but for the weak, it was better not to take chances. Talia’s presence was enough to deter them even further.

In the months that had passed since her transformation, Talia had come to terms with the fact that she would never regain her humanity. What’s more, she wasn’t even sure that she would want to. As a human, she’d been weak, but as a revenant, she was usually the most powerful person in any room. Zeke was stronger, but he was an aberration. He didn’t count. Still, regardless of her acceptance, seeing the way people looked at her wasn’t easy. Her emotions were muted, but she still felt every horrified stare. It was like being stabbed, over and over, with the citizenry’s unwarranted fear.

And she didn’t deserve it.

Hadn’t she protected them? Hadn’t she killed dozens of demons? She’d helped close the portal to Mal’araxis, too. That should have garnered at least some gratitude. But all she got was fear. Enmity. Hate. It was a galling set of circumstances, but one for which she saw no cure. She could only forge ahead, hoping that people would look past her monstrous nature to see the person beneath the pale skin and green veins.

Perhaps there was a lesson in that, though she couldn’t see it.

After a moment, she realized that she still hadn’t answered Zeke’s question. She said, “I am sorry. I was distracted.”

He shrugged his broad shoulders, saying, “It’s fine. I get the same way sometimes.”

“To answer your question, I think it is strikingly and refreshingly disgusting,” she said.

“Those words don’t seem like they fit together,” he said, grinning her way. When Zeke smiled at her – or showed any sort of approval – she couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. She didn’t like him in any sort of romantic way, but she had come to admire him. “You’re going to have to explain what you mean.”

“In Beacon, everything is beautiful,” she explained. “The architecture is peerless, the people seem fairly content, and everything appears to work toward a common goal. However, it is a façade. An illusion. Beneath the surface lurks a cesspool. I never saw it before, but with distance comes clarity.”

Indeed, she’d thought a lot about her home, and she’d come away with an understanding of just how dysfunctional the place really was. All significant resources were funneled toward the elite, even when those resources would serve a greater purpose in the hands of the weaker citizenry. Her mother was the greatest perpetrator of this injustice. She was the strongest person on the continent, and yet, she took any significant opportunity for herself, leaving only the scraps for others.

When Zeke didn’t respond, she said, “It is not so different here. The weak can barely survive, but for the boots of the elite on their necks. Yet, no one pretends it is fair. That makes a difference, I think.”

“Huh.”

“What?” she asked, glancing at him in her peripheral vision.

Zeke shook his head. “Just didn’t expect that, I guess,” he said. “To me, it doesn’t feel like it matters that much. Oppression is oppression, whether it’s hiding behind a mask or not.”

“I prefer honesty,” she admitted. “But I suppose there is the possibility that I am slightly biased.”

Slightly might have been understating it. Over the course of the past few months, Talia had gone from being a bit overwhelmed by her mother’s betrayal into pure hatred. As far as Talia was concerned, Lady Constance was a monster who needed to be put down. And one day, she hoped to be the one to do it. Something told her she might have to stand in line, though. Constance had plenty of enemies, not least of whom were her companions. If Zeke got the chance, he wouldn’t hesitate to end her. That, as much as anything else, was one of the reasons she admired him so much. He didn’t care about the danger. He didn’t care if it was a good idea. All he knew was that Constance had hurt his friend, and that was enough to make her an enemy.

“Slightly,” he acknowledged with a chuckle.

The pair continued to make their way through the city, covering the ground far more quickly than most people could manage. Soon, they found their destination – the Foundry. It was a large building that was built more like an amphitheater. Open-aired and with a giant pit of lava in the center, the ground floor was dominated by a collection of smithies. The crack of hammers on metal filled the air as Zeke led Talia inside.

They were immediately greeted by one of the Union officials, a position that was made obvious by the woman’s blue uniform. “Mr. Blackwood!” she said, wringing her hands. Sweat poured down her face. “I was not informed that you were set to visit today.”

“I decided at the last minute, Erin,” he said, a sheepish expression playing across his face. “Sorry. I probably should have sent someone ahead. I’ll be sure to do that next time.”

“No problem, Mr. Blackwood!” she said, the intention behind the statement ruined by her forced tone. “We serve at your discretion.”

If Talia was one to display such emotion, she would have rolled her eyes. Instead, she was limited to a simple blink. She didn’t blame the citizens of Jariq for holding Zeke in high regard. She did too. However, the constant pandering was a little too much for her taste. Perhaps she would have felt differently if she’d have been made to feel as powerless as the people who’d been victimized by the demons. Few of the city’s people had been completely unaffected by the abbreviated demon invasion. Most had lost at least one friend or member of their family. So, Zeke, who was the face of their salvation as well as humanity’s vengeance, was put onto a proverbial pedestal. Talia wouldn’t be surprised if, eventually, the city erected a statue.

“Is he around?” asked Zeke. “Do you know if he’s finished?”

Erin was only level fifteen, and she clearly wasn’t used to being so casually addressed by someone of Zeke’s importance. Still, she held it together, saying, “Master Raphael is at his forge. But I regret that I don’t know if he’s finished the…ah…project you set for him. I apologize, and I hope –”

“It’s fine,” Zeke said, waving away her apology. “Not going to bite your head off for not knowing something you’ve got no reason to know. Relax.”

Erin swallowed hard. “Very well,” she said. “Would you like for me to announce you?”

“No, no – it’s fine,” Zeke said. “I know my way.”

With that, he set off, not even paying attention to the surprised woman he left behind. With a shake of her head, Talia followed. When she caught up to Zeke, she said, “You confound people like Miss Erin.”

“What? Why?” he asked.

“You do not act according to your status,” Talia stated. “People expect a certain…dismissive attitude from elites.”

“That’s stupid,” he said. “She’s a person. I just treated her like I would anyone else.”

“And that is what makes you different,” Talia stated.

Zeke didn’t have anything to say to that. He’d been to Beacon, after all. He knew how elites treated others. More, he’d seen enough during his time in Jariq to cement that knowledge in his brain, so Talia wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know. However, having it reiterated clearly distressed him.

Purposefully, they strode through the Foundry’s outer ring, which was made of the ubiquitous sandstone. It bore a host of carvings, most of which were worshipful depictions of various crafters. Predictably, blacksmiths, with their mighty hammers and blazing forges, were the most popular.

Zeke didn’t pay much attention to their surroundings as he passed various forges. He did give a few smiths nods of respect, but he really only had eyes for his destination. Suspended in the center of the pool of lava was a forge bigger than any of the others, and upon that forge worked a familiar figure.

Raphael Taggert was an unassuming man. Average size and even more average looks. However, beneath that unassuming exterior was one of the most advanced craftsmen in the entire Radiant Isles. His chosen profession – blacksmithing – was a common one to the point where there were entire subdivisions of Beacon devoted to the craft. But few reached the pinnacle, and even fewer stretched the craft the way Taggert had. He was a true master, the likes of which even Beacon could not boast.

And he was hard at work on a project Zeke had given him, hammering away at familiar red-and-white metal.

Zeke didn’t speak as he approached. Instead, he crouched nearby, watching the man’s every movement with undiluted concentration. He wasn’t a blacksmith himself – Talia knew that – but even so, he’d spent hours watching Taggert working at his craft.

More than an hour passed before Taggert noticed him, but even when he did, he didn’t stop working. Instead, he redoubled his efforts, hammering away at the red-and-white metal. Belatedly, Talia realized that it was a breastplate, and not dissimilar from the one Zeke had worn until it had been destroyed after the weeks-long battle against the fire ants. Finally, after two more hours, Taggert let out a sigh of relief. He held up the breastplate with a pair of tongs, saying, “I suppose it’ll have to do.”

Zeke took that as his cue, saying, “Thank you for letting me watch.”

Taggert let out a harumph and rolled his shoulders before answering, “You don’t have to thank me. You saved this city. You saved a lot of people I care about.”

Zeke looked away, and she knew what he was thinking. They’d spoken about his role in the battle for Jariq, and while she knew that he acknowledged that it probably wouldn’t have been won without him, he felt responsible for the people who’d had buildings collapse atop him as a result of his lone strike. There weren’t as many to perish as any of them had expected – much of the city had been evacuated to more secure shelters when the demons began trickling out of the portal – but there were enough that he felt guilty.

More than that, though, all three people present knew that Taggert’s subservience wasn’t the result of gratitude. Not completely, at least. He had seen Zeke’s power, and he was terrified of having that getting the wrong kind of attention. So, he’d made every effort to ingratiate himself to Zeke. It had worked, if not for the reasons he probably expected.

Zeke didn’t really care that much about money. He would have happily paid whatever price the smith quoted; after unloading just a small fraction of his loot, he’d made a small fortune, so he was definitely good for it. More, Zeke seemed fascinated by the man’s craft, which was a reward all its own.

“You’re finished?” Zeke asked.

“With the breastplate, yes,” Taggert said, setting the hunk of metal armor aside. “It still needs some adornment, but…well, the forging is done. Thank you for supplying the blood mithril. I’ve never had the chance to work with so much of it. And those raptor feathers? Grinding them up and integrating them into the metal was pure genius.”

“Thanks,” Zeke said. “Is it going to end up working like we want it to work? Do you think it’ll conduct energy as fluidly as we hoped?”

“Maybe,” Taggert stated. “There’s no way of knowing for sure, though. Not until we finish the whole set.”

“Right,” Zeke said. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Are you sure you don’t need a weapon?” Taggert asked. “I’ve got more experience with them than with armor. I could make something truly impressive. An axe, perhaps?”

Zeke laughed. “I think I’ll stick with my mace,” he said, pulling the weapon from his spatial storage. It still looked like it belonged in the hands of some orcish chieftan, but Talia knew just how extraordinary it was. The weapon had been the result of a difficult quest, and it had become Zeke’s signature. He handed it to the smith, but as soon as he let go of the grip, it thudded to the ground, sending a small, localized tremor arcing out through the central forge.

“So heavy…how do you lift it?” Taggert asked.

“It grows heavier based on my strength,” Zeke stated.

Taggert paled. As a smith, he’d likely invested quite a few stat points into strength. More than most warriors, in fact. And considering that he was level twenty-five, that meant that he was probably one of the mightiest people in the city, at least in terms of purely physical strength. And he couldn’t even hold the mace that Zeke had handled with one hand.

“An impressive weapon,” Taggert said. Then, puffing out his chest, he said, “I shall endeavor to make armor to match.”

“Thank you,” Zeke said. “Are you getting back to work right now?”

Clearly, the man hadn’t intended to, but he didn’t dare say no. So, he nodded and went back to work. Zeke, for his part, settled back down to watch. As he did, he told Talia, “You don’t have to stick around. I’m fine here.”

“I will stay,” Talia said.

It wasn’t the most dangerous place in Jariq, but she didn’t let that dissuade her. She would continue to watch Zeke’s back, regardless of how safe it might appear to be.